I am me, I will always be
From the cradle to the grave
I may make some changes
As the world demands of me
Into shapes that never fit
Just to see a single smile
Is being dishonest, or worse
But I can bear it for a little bit
True nature is all we are
Trust in which we are born
Games only color the truth
Pretending only goes so far
Stoic Poetry
Through The Cracked Window (Revisited) 